


Alpha

by IoGenesis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:35:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26398021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IoGenesis/pseuds/IoGenesis
Summary: And Stiles? Stiles thought he'd gotten so used to werewolves that the pray instinct was nonexistent now.It's not.His vision dims until all he can see is the alpha. Every muscle in his body is taunt, ready to run for his life. His mind goes deathly quiet, so focused on the wolf before him that there isn't a single thought passing.They stare at each other for a long time, before the wolf grins, slow and dangerous."Maybe I'll expand my pack after all, " is all he says.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 36
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title sucks. I'm taking suggestions for one while I try to think of a better one xD

The Alpha had one hand wrapped around Stiles wrist, stretched outward as the teenager struggled to get away. His bright red eyes were focused on the two growling Hale wolves, smirking in victory. 

"I came here to claim this land, since the Hale's are no longer in power." The man says calmly. Stiles rolls his eyes hard; the asshole was going to monolog now? 

The alpha had come into town a week ago, met with the pack and said he was travelling around hoping to extend his pack. After a fight within their own pack when Scott suggested Peter go with the man, the pack had sent the alpha away. They'd thought the man had gone quietly. 

Stiles knew it had been too easy. 

"So you came to scope out the competition. Expanding your pack my ass." Stiles snorts, the gasps in pain when the alpha squeezes his wrist painfully with a sneer. 

"Such a weak, pathetic human, aren't you?" The man mutters too him, smirking when Stiles glares at him. "You're only purpose is to be the pack bitch." 

"Fuck you." Stiles snarles back.

"I'm going to tear that pathetic pack apart, you know. I'll start with these two, make you watch as I claw out their beating hearts." 

Stiles glanced toward the Hale's. They hadn't reacted to the wolf's words, so they must not have heard them. His mind raced, flashing images of the alphas description in front of his eyes, trying desperately to come up with a way out of this. 

"Then I'll go after that girl that smells like death." The wolf continued. 

"You're the pathetic one if you think you're gonna leave these woods alive." Stiles growled at him. Think, brain, think! 

"Oh?" The man purred in amusement. 

"That man is Peter Hale. He beat Death itself." Stiles see's the alphas eyes glance toward the two werewolves that were slowly getting closer. "He possessed a banshee and dug his way out of his grave. You think you can beat someone like that?" Stiles watches the man think, and see's Derek start edging toward the the alpha's side. 

"And the other one? That's Derek Hale. Talia Hale's only son. Do you think she died without passing along her talents to him? Not to mention he gave up his Alpha spark for his dying sister. That already makes him a better wolf than you'll ever be." 

The alpha snarls and digs his claws into Stiles' arm. Stiles screams, before suddenly dropping to the ground. There's a lot of snarling going on over his head as he scrambles to get out of the way. 

Once clear of the fangs and claws, he looks at his arm. The wounds are deep (oh god, is that bone?), and bleeding rapidly. Wasn't his vein somewhere right there? He's gonna die. He's gonna die. 

He's gonna- 

A body slams into a tree near him and when he looks, Derek is crumpled in a heap, struggling to get up. Peter's still fighting, but he's on the losing end. 

Stiles gets to his feet, clutching at his arm just above the wounds. He doesn't have a plan, but it doesn't matter anymore. He has to save them. 

He's going to save them. 

Peter gets thrown away and the alpha starts toward him, claws poised to attack. Stiles picks up a sharp stone and throws it at the wolf's head. Slowly, the alpha werewolf turns toward him. 

And Stiles? Stiles thought he'd gotten so used to werewolves that the pray instinct was nonexistent now. 

It's not. 

His vision dims until all he can see is the alpha. Every muscle in his body is taunt, ready to run for his life. His mind goes deathly quiet, so focused on the wolf before him that there isn't a single thought passing. 

They stare at each other for a long time, before the wolf grins, slow and dangerous. 

"Maybe I'll expand my pack after all, " is all he says. 

They move at the same time. The alpha takes one step forward as Stiles twists his body. They run through the woods, leaving behind the shouts of the other wolves.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles knew damn well he couldn't out run an alpha werewolf. As he tripped over tree roots, and slid down the short rocky hill, he knew it was only because the alpha was letting him. 

He could feel the alpha right behind him, the hot breath at the back of his neck.

Stiles yelped as a misplaced rock took him down hard, sending him face first into the dirt. He scrambled to get up, pain shooting up his injured arm and blinding him for a moment. 

On his feet, struggling to catch his breath, Stiles looked around. He had no idea where he was, and everything was quiet. 

Way too quiet. 

Glancing around the dark woods, Stiles counted his injuries. His wrist had been ripped to shreds (that's definitely bone), and falling into the dirt had surely packed some nasty shit in there. His left ankle is throbbing, at least severely sprained. The cuts and bruises everywhere else don't hurt, at least not yet. 

"Now would be a good time for a little magic." He mumbled to himself, feeling a predatory gaze on him. It's almost enough to make him wish for that stupid fox's power again. 

Almost. 

He's aware that the longer he stands here, the worse everything will get. On the off chance that he had lost the alpha (yeah right), he needed to keep moving and get some distance, hopefully double back and meet up with the Hales. 

On the other hand, if the alpha is in fact watching him, he needs something to defend himself. He left his damn mountain ash at home, like a moron, because they'd been in a hurry when he left the house. 

He had nothing. 

Wait, no. 

He didn't have nothing. 

He took a deep breath, squeezed his fists through the agony, and took a step forward. He knew where it was from where they had been fighting. He knew what direction it was in. 

He just had to get there. 

~

Perhaps the alpha was waiting to see what his plan was, because Stiles has been walking for at least 20 minutes now and he hasn't been attacked. Stiles knew he was being followed; once in a while he'd hear a snap behind him. But he kept his pace and kept repeating his mantra in his head. One more step, nothing else matters. 

As he finally stumbled past the treeline and into the small clearing, he knew he was running out of time. Blood loss was making him woozy, and his adrenalin faded about ten minutes ago, leaving nothing but exhaustion and agony in its place. 

He limped his was toward the tree stump, his injured and bleeding hand stretched out toward it. Just have to make the sacrifice, make the wish. Dammit, just a little further. 

"A Nemeton?" The alpha's voiced said in awe. 

Stiles cursed to himself, willing himself to ignore the asshole and keep going. Two more steps and he'll be there. 

His ankle gives out and with a cry Stiles hits the ground, his fingertips just inches away from the tree's roots. 

The alpha tsk's at him, chuckling in amusement. "And just what is your plan exactly? It's not going to just magically make me go away." The alpha out right laughs at him. 

Stiles forces his body to move, inching forward. He knows this stupid tree, okay? He's connected to it in a way no one else can even imagine. Yeah, the Nogitsune was forcefully evicted, and the Nemeton was purified from its dark magic or what-the-fuck-ever Deaton did to it, but Stiles knew this would work. 

His bloody fingertips brush against the base of the stump before the last of his strength gives out. He prays its enough. 

"This tree will give me great power when I become ruling Alpha here." 

Ugh, that asshole is still talking? Stiles really just can't with this dude anymore. He's too tired. "Idiot." He mumbles tiredly into the dirt. 

"What was that?" 

Turning his head, he glares up at the wolf. "I said you're an idiot." He smirks at the growl the alpha lets out. "This tree has never accepted anyone other than a Hale as Alpha." 

"What would a pathetic human like you know about it?" 

Stiles rolls his eyes with all the strength he can muster. "This pathetic human just killed you." 

The alpha pauses, then laughs. 

"You laugh, but it's true." Stiles' good hand finds purchase on the Nemeton, and he pulls himself as upright as he can, leaning heavily against the tree stump. "I made the sacrifice," his breath is short now, he knows he doesn't have much longer, "I made my dying wish." 

The wolf in front of him has stopped laughing, seemingly thinking about Stiles' words. Nemeton's were no joking matter, and humans could use them if they knew how. Druids used them after all. 

"What did you do?" The man snarls, making Stiles give a soft breathy laugh. 

"I asked for your slow and painful death."


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles looses some time. 

He thinks the exhaustion, magic, and blood loss combo probably knocked him out for a while. He wakes up warm and comfy, the forefront of his mind fuzzy and slow while the back of his mind swirls to life and rushes through the events.

He knows his body went through some major damage. He knows he gave some blood to his friendly neighborhood magic tree and asked it to kill an alpha werewolf in return. 

He knows he should be in a lot of pain right now. 

But he's trapped between two warm, fluffy, unmoving rocks and has no intention of leaving. It's comfortable, alright? And he doesn't think he could move even if he wanted too. 

One of the warm, fuzzy rocks rumbles, probably sensing that he's awake now, and a wet tongue swipes across his hip. An echo of pain races across his nerves, and he lets out a long sigh. He knows what injuries he had before passing out. He knows what kind of injury would be placed right there. 

There's a soft whine from one of the rocks, and Stiles wonders what that means. It sounds sad, like something's wrong. He wonders, too, where his other fuzzy rocks are. He wonders what it means that they aren't here. 

"-pha?" 

Alright, so speaking doesn't seem to be an option right now. Stiles huffs when the only answer to his half-question is a cold, wet nose pressed against his neck. He tries to lift a hand to push it away; it's cold dammit, and he wants to stay warm. He isn't sure his hand even twitches from where it sits limply in his lap. 

There's a pressure building at the center of his face, and his throat constricts in an uncomfortable way. There's twin whines in his ear, and that just makes it worse. 

He doesn't want to die. He's always, always so willing to put his life on the line for his pack, but fuck, he doesn't really want to die. 

But he's going to. 

He put himself in danger once to many times. It was stupid to think that he would always come out on top when he rushed head first into danger with no plans. He knows asking the Nemeton for something is always risky; it does what it wants, sacrifice or not. Stiles didn't intend to trade his life for the death of that wolf, but he very well may have. Stupid tree. 

Stiles kind of wants to laugh, because it may not even be the Nemeton's fault. 

Peter always seemed to think that Stiles would survive the bite. He never hesitated to tell Stiles that it could kill him, but believed it wouldn't. 

While Stiles isn't sure how much time passed while he was out of it, he doesn't think it's a good sign that he's tucked between two pack members, still beside the tree stump where he was bitten to begin with. 

He's sure they're both taking his pain so he can't feel himself dying. 

He flinches as a tongue licks his face clean of tears, and realizes one of the unmoving rocks has in fact moved. He blinks open his eyes, vision blurry from... He's not gonna think about that. 

The black fur and electric blue eyes that greet him aren't a surprise. What does surprise him is that the wolf's left ear has been torn into ribbons, and there is a very obvious, open gash on it's shoulder. 

"Wha-" 

The wolf huffs at him and Stiles takes his cue to shut up. Clearly the wolf is unbothered by its own injuries, as it circles (well, limps) around Stiles and the wolf he's currently propped up against, and begins nosing at each injury Stiles has. Some he's aware of, others not so much. 

The echo of pain he gets when his ribs are poked at is a surprise. When did that happen? 

Probably on one of his many trips to the ground, he thinks. 

Stiles starts to glance around while he's being poked and prodded at. The Nemeton is right there, within arms length if he stretched. The Alpha isn't in sight, and he doesn't know what that means. 

Did he get away? 

Was the sacrifice not enough?

Stiles stared at the tree stump until a puff of hot air across his cheek pulls his attention back to the wolves. 

"Sti-ks." He mumbles. He does not appreciate the rumbling laugh he gets in response from both of them, thank you very much. 

Their moods seem to have lifted, and he wonders what that means. A few minutes ago they seemed like their were already grieving. Now one is up and moving around the Nemeton's clearing, and the other had relaxed against him, watching its pack mate move. 

Stiles doesn't know what the hell is happening anymore. He thinks, maybe he did die, and this is his.. His what? Heaven? Hell? 

On one hand, yes he's with two of his pack mates. Two of his favorites even. But on the other hand, this isn't a relaxing atmosphere, and he thought there would at least be a meadow of flowers or...something when he died. 

He's decided that this sucks. Life. Death. Fuck it, it all sucks. 

The wolf he's laying against licks his elbow, and gives it a nudge for good measure. Stiles looks at it, sweeping his gaze over the creature. This one is black too, with electric blue eyes. Well... Eye. Stiles feels his eyes fill with tears again as he stares at the one blue eye gazing at him. The wolf huffs at him and nudges his arm. 

The injury will heal, Stiles knows that. Doesn't make it any better right here and now. 

Forcing himself to look away, Stiles counts the other injuries. Patches of missing fur stand out sharply, making the scratches and bite marks more apparent. The wolf has one paw curled and tucked under its chest, and it seems to Stiles that, that would be uncomfortable. He narrows his eyes at the wolf trying to hide an injury, and gets a huff in return. 

~

More time passes. 

Stiles is pretty sure he slept, because he feels a little better now. Enough so that he manages to sit up, and hold himself up. The wolf under him gets up and stretches. Stiles eyes the paw that had been hidden from view, but finds nothing out of the ordinary. 

Enough time has passed that they healed minor injuries, it seems. 

Peter's eye is still missing, but Derek's ear looks alot better. 

Stiles watches Derek trot off into the treeline, his black fur melting into the shadows and making him impossible to see. Peter steps in front of him, ears pricked forward. His electric blue gaze is a lot more eerie than it used to be, and Stiles is sure he's going to tease the man relentlessly later. 

Peter leans down and nudges Stiles' wrist. With a soft sigh, Stiles looks down. He doesn't know what to make of what he sees. 

Logically, of course, he knows what it means. His mind produces a memory of Scott peeling away the medical bandage to reveal perfectly smooth skin. 

He doesn't get to have that dramatic reveal, and he kinda feels cheated some how. 

He lifts his hand toward his face, seeing the dried blood under his nails. It's the only physical reminder that his wrist had been mangled well beyond repair a few hours ago. Wiggling his toes tells him his ankle had been healed as well, as if he needed anymore proof. 

"It took, then?" He asks softly. 

Peter dips his head twice, still watching him with that one blue eye.


	4. Chapter 4

The walk out of the Preserve is long. Stiles, though his injuries have healed, is still exhausted and can barely stand, let alone walk. So Derek is basically carrying him while Peter trots ahead of them in wolf form. 

They don't talk. Derek has never been much of a talker and Stiles is too tired. While he's burning with curiosity, he just doesn't have the energy. 

He wants to know what happened. After he took off into the forest, after he made his sacrifice and passed out. 

He wants to know what happened to the Alpha. 

By the time they make it back to Derek's car, Stiles is so, so ready to just pass out and sleep again. Derek sets him in the passenger seat and opens the back door for Peter to get inside. 

The next thing Stiles is aware of, he's being cradled against someone's chest and being carried inside a building. The loft, his mind supplies sleepily. He'd probably be embarrassed about being carried like a princess later, right now he's going to let himself enjoy it. 

The loft door was pulled open, and Stiles was carried over to the couch and gently laid down. A hand brushed over his hair, and he learned into the touch. 

He let out a soft whimper when the touch pulled away. Peter's soft chuckle reached his ears before he fell asleep. 

~

The next morning is... Loud. But not in the sense Stiles would normally describe it. There's no loud music, or people yelling at each other. Actually, Stiles isn't sure there's anyone in the apartment. 

Still, there's a drip in one of the pipes somewhere. And a horn blares from down the street. There is a sharp scent in the air that he doesn't know what to make of. 

Even the damn sunlight is loud. Which doesn't even make sense. 

He groans and rolls over to bury his face into the pillows of the couch. Two and a half minutes of being a conscious werewolf, and already everything sucks. He can't catch a damn break. 

He lays there for probably thirty minutes, grinding his teeth every time something outside makes a loud noise, before the loft door slides open just enough for someone to slip in. 

"Sucks." He says into the pillow, refusing to lift his head. There's a chuckle somewhere above his head, which strangely makes him relax. He hadn't heard Peter walk across the room, and it's been the quietest damn thing he's heard all morning. 

"You'll get used to it." The older wolf says, setting something that sounded like a paper bag down on the table. "You're senses will even out and become easier to manage." 

Stiles groans in response. 

"For now," Peter continues, "eat. I brought you some Starbucks." 

Stiles forces himself to sit up and turn. Peter stands before him, holding out the Starbucks cup. His eye has healed, as far as Stiles can really tell. Although it seems a little dull compared to his other eye. Slowly, Stiles reaches out to take it. 

It smells strong, but not unpleasant. A simple white chocolate mocha, his favorite. There's a few other scents on the cup. The workers who made it, probably, and what Stiles is associating as Peter's scent. The man smells like the forest, like earth or soil. There is another scent there, something underlining. Something almost familiar, yet just out of his grasp of knowledge. 

"Thank you." He says softly. Peter sits beside him, watching. Stiles takes a few sips of his coffee, letting it coat his tongue and trying to get used to being able to taste every single flavor.

It's interesting. 

"Where are the others?" He asks eventually. He figured Derek and at least Scott would be here by now, new wolf and all. 

"Giving you some space." Peter answers, tilting his head. He leans forward and snatches the bag, fishing out a food item that he places in Stiles hand. "Eat." 

Stiles rolls his eyes, but does take a bite. "I thought Scott would.." 

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Darling." Peter interrupts, smirking at Stiles' glare. "Scott's... Busy." The man hedges. 

"Busy? Busy with what?" Stiles growls. His best friend is too damn busy to come see if he's okay? What kind of shit is that?

A hand gets placed over his, and when he looks down he finds his croissant has been crushed to death and crumbled all over his lap, his shiny new claws are dangerously close to piercing the meat of his palm. 

He forces himself to take a deep breath and calm down. Peter only lets go when Stiles retracts his claws, then stands to go get something to clean up the mess. 

"I'm sorry." Stiles mumbles to him, helping clean up. 

"You have nothing to apologize for. You're a brand new wolf, learning new senses and control." Peter looks like he wants to say more, but must decide it can wait because he sits back down when the mess is clean. 

"So what is Scott so busy with?" Stiles asks. He wants to know what the man is thinking, but trusts Peter will tell him in his own time. 

"Well, I know what he has the rest of the pack busy with, but he himself, I'm not sure." 

"Don't be a vague asshole, Peter." 

This earns him a chuckle. "Chris and Derek are leading a hunting party for that Alpha."

"The alpha, " Stiles murmurs, his mind going back and running through the events again. "What happened to him?" 

"We don't know. By the time Derek and I caught up with you, you were alone, slumped over the Nemeton, half dead with a bite wound. We weren't sure you were gonna make it." Peter says softly, gazing at Stiles with a look he can't decipher right now. 

"I made a sacrifice to the Nemeton. I gave it my blood, and asked it to kill him." 

Peter takes a moment before speaking, and Stiles wonders again what's going on in the older man's mind. 

"We didn't find anything of him, except his scent lingering on you and the Nemeton." 

"So it didn't work." Stiles sighs. 

"We don't know that. The Nemeton works in strange ways." 

"So they're out looking for him?" 

Peter nods, looking out the giant windows. "Derek is tracking his scent as far as he can. They'll find him."


	5. Chapter 5

They spend the day going over basics, things that Stiles remembers teaching Scott, but now with actual detail. It's nice. By the evening Stiles has control over his shift, and he's feeling quite proud of himself. Sounds and smells still overwhelm him, so Peter hasn't taken him out of the loft yet, but he says he's doing well. 

He spends a lot of time meditating, getting to know the wolf that has taken up residence inside him. Peter seemed surprised that he could recognize his wolf like that, and explained that he hadn't heard of a bitten wolf being able to do that. 

It makes since to Stiles, in a way. Scott definitely never connected with his wolf, even after becoming Alpha. There is no bond there. Stiles had always known, but now he can see, can feel, the lack of connection Scott has to his wolf. 

Stiles thinks that, out of the bitten wolves, only Issac really connected to his wolf, even if it wasn't on the same level Stiles was doing. 

His wolf is an interesting presence in his mind. Nothing like the Fox had been, thankfully. Because seriously, Stiles could not go through with again. His wolf is just there, steady and calming, not trying to take over. 

It wonders at things, finds things Stiles does amusing and unnecessary. Stiles takes offence to that, dammit. It seems content to just watch. Stiles thinks that's because the full moon has already passed this month, and so it's bloodlust is sated right now. 

His wolf just huffs at him when he thinks that. 

Well then. 

His wolf is kind of an asshole. 

Figures. 

~

Peter orders pizza for dinner. When he slides open the door because he heard a heartbeat coming, Chris Argent is holding their pizza. Peter lets him in. 

Stiles feels his wolf go on edge. It makes him tense up, watching Chris set the pizza on the counter. He knows, and trusts Chris, which is probably the only thing keeping his wolf in a simi-calm state. 

When Chris looks at him, his wolf growls. The odd look on Chris's face is the only indicator that he's growling too. 

"It's your scent, Christopher." Peter says, moving to get plates.

"I showered before coming over." Chris grumbles. 

"You could bathe in bleach and it won't be enough." Peter smirks, sliding a plate to the hunter, who helped himself to some pizza. 

They talk some more as Peter makes his and Stiles' plates. It eases his wolf, to see another so comfortable with Chris. Eventually, Stiles is able to relax and eat. 

"You're adjusting well."

Stiles looks up to find both older men watching him. He and his wolf pause, checking each other's feelings and thoughts. 

"I can control my shift already, " Stiles says, watching Chris nod encouragingly, "but I'm having a hard time with sounds and smells." 

"Impressive," Chris hums, "usually takes a new wolf weeks to gain such control." 

"He's connected to his wolf like a born wolf would be." Peter says, smirking at then surprised look on Chris's face. 

"Have you found the alpha?" Stiles asks abruptly, wanting to change the subject. The hunter pauses and looks at him, trading a glance with Peter before answering. 

"Derek followed his scent several miles out of town. He, Allison and I are going to the next town tomorrow and we'll spend however long it takes tracking him some more." 

"There's something you're not telling me." 

"Stiles it's noth-" 

"Do you remember Scott's first week as a wolf?" Peter interrupts the hunter. Chris frowns at him. 

"There's no need to worry him." Chris hisses at the wolf, making Stiles tilt his head. 

His wolf is on edge again, and Stiles presses his claws against his thigh to keep calm. He sends reassurance to his wolf. 

He trusts Peter. 

And God is that a sentence that he never would have said a year ago. 

His wolf flicks an ear in agreement. 

They trust Peter. 

"Stiles?" 

Stiles jumps slightly and looks up to find the older men watching him. 

"His first week? There was control lessons, Allison," he ticks the events off on his fingers, tilting his head back and forth as he speaks, "a murder spree.." he trails off, his eyes widening. 

Peter nods as he puts the pieces together, "I forced him out of his house every night." 

Stiles remembers Scott saying he'd fall asleep and wake up deep in the woods. He remembers that night in the school, hearing Peters howl, and how Scott said he came so close to killing them all. 

His wolf pulls his attention and points him toward a glowing red string. One end is connected to him, but he can't see the other end. It fades into the distance. 

It's his bond to the Alpha.. 

"You're worried he'll do the same to me."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, when Stiles says he learned to control his shift he meant his beta shift. This chapter he learns full shift.

Stiles is, understandably, nervous after dinner. He has some pretty major control issues, okay? After the Nogitsune, the thought of not being in control of himself, sends him into panic attacks. He paces in front of the windows in the lofts living room, trying not to listen to Chris and Peter's conversation. 

His wolf is uneasy and agitated, feeding from Stiles fear. It's instinct is to follow their Alpha's orders, but it seems to agree with Stiles that a complete loss in control is a no-no. The wolf bares its teeth at the thought. 

When he turns around to pace some more, Peter catches him by the shoulders, forcing him to stop. 

"Try to relax, Stiles," he murmurs, "I honestly doubt he'll try anything."

Stiles wants to snap at him, wants to tell him to shove it. But he takes a deep breath and looks at Peter, whose eye still hasn't fully healed for some reason, who has stepped into danger on Stiles behalf more than once, and who has never lied to him. 

"Why? You did it too Scott anytime you could." 

"Yes," Peter nods, "anytime I could. This alpha has had plenty of time to call you, but he hasn't." 

"Can't he only call while I'm asleep?" 

Peter lifts an eyebrow like that's a particularly dumb question to ask, but answers anyway. "That isn't how it works, Darling."

"But that's the only time you did it to Scott."

"I called to him at night because that's when I could leave the hospital. Him having been asleep was a coincidence. He certainly wasn't asleep in the school. Being asleep doesn't make it easier for an alpha to control a beta."

"Great, so he could just take control while I'm in the middle of wiping my ass." 

Chris shakes his head while Peter chuckles. 

"Like I said, I don't think he'll try. Do you have any other pack bonds?" 

Stiles looks within himself, finding the glowing red string once more. It's the only one there, but he can almost feel others, like a ghost. 

"There's no others attached to me, but I think he has a pack somewhere." 

"Being bitten into a pack doesn't necessarily mean you gain all the other bonds the alpha has immediately." 

Stiles nods. Good, he thinks, he doesn't want them as pack anyway. He feels guilty a moment later, because he knows that a bad alpha doesn't always mean bad betas. 

"Okay, so if he's had time to do it, he probably already would have." Stiles breathes, trying to reassure himself. His wolf sends him positive emotions, calming him. "Now what?" 

"You and I are going to et some sleep." Peter says, watching the younger wolf frown slightly. "Chris is leaving, right?" He doesn't look at the hunter, but hears him shift his weight and move toward the door. 

"Call if either of you need anything." The man says before slipping out the door. 

Stiles and Peter move the few living room items around and make a large bed on the floor with the fluffiest things they can find in the loft. Stiles doesn't really know why they're doing it, but it makes his wolf, and therefore himself, feel safer so he just goes along with it. 

"Want to work on your full shift?" Peter asks once their makeshift bed is complete. Stiles looks at him nervously, but his wolf sends encouragement to him, so he nods. 

"It might be scary at first." Peter warns. "It's not like a beta shift." He motions for Stiles to sit in front of him, only continuing when he does. 

"Meaning?" 

"Right now, your wolf is just a presence at the back of your mind, right? There, but not controlling." 

Stiles nods, smiling slightly. He likes his wolf. 

"When you're in beta form, you and your wolf are equal. He lends his strength and knowledge to you so you can fight back and defend yourself." 

"With you so far." Stiles mumbles, already seeing where this is going. 

"When you shift to full wolf form, you are the one at the back of the mind. You're aware, and you can see, hear, think feel, and communicate the same way your wolf does now." 

"What stops him from.. Doing things I don't want?" Stiles asks, wincing slightly at the irritated feeling his wolf sends him. Peter watches knowingly. 

"You know what makes a werewolf feral, right?" 

"No pack."

"Yes, but there is another way. When one becomes out of sync with their wolf." 

"Out of sync?" 

"Our wolves are apart of us. They aren't a separate deity, not really. They have their own thoughts and feelings, but they share our morals, our goals. When one starts disagreeing with their wolf, starts fighting it, they fall out of sync and they go insane." 

"Is that...What happened to you, aside from your pack.." 

"In a sense. My wolf and I weren't necessarily out of sync, but we were out of touch." 

Stiles swallows tightly. He's seen Derek and Peter, even Scott, in their wolf forms. They're beautiful, all of them. They seem their happiest during those times. 

He burns with desire to share that. 

"How does this work?" 

Peter smiles. "It's a little different for everyone. For me, it's just sitting back and letting someone else drive for a bit, but picture however you need." 

With a nod, and a deep breath, Stiles closes his eyes. His wolf is there, sitting before him. It watches him, feeling hesitant. Stiles knows it's because of his fear of losing control. He likes his wolf, and he wants to do this, to trust his wolf. 

Reassurance comes through their bond. It feels warm, like the sunshine on a clear day. Like his father's hugs, his mom's laugh. It feels like home. 

When he opens his eyes, he sees Peter smiling softly at him. 

"I knew you'd be a beautiful wolf."


	7. Chapter 7

They spend most of the night letting their wolves get to know each other and just be wolves. It's interesting to Stiles, watching from the background. 

His wolf see's and feels things differently than Stiles does. Things aren't black and white, like Stiles half expected it too be, but a range of colors that Stiles' mind has a hard time interpreting. There are colors he can't even name. His wolf tries to express what the certain colors mean, but Stiles still doesn't get it. 

It doesn't matter, they're beautiful. 

Stiles watches his wolf communicate with Peters. He learns the behaviors and connects them to memories of some of the wolves doing the same or similar in human forms. The dark furred wolf flicks its ear in a similar way that Peter would wave his hand. It turns its head as Peter would his body. 

Stiles is aware his wolf does these things too, but he isn't sure if any there are any similar or mirrored motions that he himself makes. 

Half way through the night, the two wolves are curled up against each other. Stiles feels himself getting sleepy. He doesn't really want to sleep, isn't sure what would happen. He thinks his wolf naps sometimes while Stiles is awake. It shouldn't be a problem, right? 

He gets a wave of warmth and comfort from his wolf and is out like a light. 

~

In the morning, Stiles is startled awake by the sound of Peter's phone going off. He jerks awake and, upon realizing that he's cuddled against Peter's chest, flails away. 

His wolf huffs at him in amusement. 

Peter offers him an amused smirk before getting to his feet and stretching, picking up his phone from the table they'd moved for their floor-bed. 

"Yes, Christopher?" 

Stiles can't quite hear what Chris is saying on the other end, but a serious look comes over Peter's face. He doesn't smell anything out of the ordinary (not that he knows what emotions smell like), but his wolf seems pleased that Peter isn't upset. 

"We'll be there soon." Peter says before hanging up, turning his attention to Stiles. 

"Where are we going?" 

"They found something they want you to see." 

"Vague asshole." Stiles grumbles, but still gets to his feet. He follows Peter to the elevator, already bracing himself for the onslaught of scents and sounds at full force. 

Peter takes his hand and that grounds him, brings his rising anxiety to a full stop. 

Before he can even think about what that means, his wolf moves his attention back to the red string that connects him to the alpha. But now, there's a very thin, soft blue, dimly glowing strand that, when he looks, is connected to Peter. 

His wolf tells him it's a pack bond, brand new and breakable. 

"Do you want to run there or drive?" Peter asks, pulling him out of his head. 

"We have a pack bond." Stiles blurts, which earns him a small head tilt. Well, maybe somebody should have warned him. 

"Yes, Darling. We do." Peter says carefully. "Is that bad?" 

"No." Stiles is quick to say. "No, it's not! I just now noticed, is all." 

Peter watches him for a moment, before nodding. "It's still breakable-" 

"That's what my wolf said too, what does it mean?"

"We could break it now, and it won't hurt either of us. Or your alpha can break it." 

"He's not my alpha." Stiles growls.

"I suppose not, but he is connected to you. He could break it if he becomes aware of it." 

"Okay, so we don't let him find it." Stiles shrugs and turns toward the woods. "Easy. Let's go." He steps forward and, when Peter doesn't stop him, continues forward into the woods. 

It takes the man a few moments to catch up to him, and Stiles feels a hand curl around his elbow as he steps neatly over a tree root. 

"I guess you don't have to catch me every time I trip now." 

"I guess not." Peter chuckles. "This will be a lot fast on four paws." 

When Stiles looks, Peter's wolf is watching him. He feels his own wolf wiggle in excitement. He takes a deep breath, and lets the feeling of home wash over him again. 

~

Watching his wolf run through the forest is kind of fun. Feeling the breeze pull through fur that is, but also isn't, his, makes him feel ticklish. He realizes quickly that his wolf's mind is always working. It calculates distances, times, scents, and sounds. Stiles finds that he can keep up with these instinctive processes with ease, and memorizes them to use for himself. 

His wolf is pleased that he is learning. 

They run silently through the woods, jumping fallen trees with such grace that Stiles feels powerful. He doesn't understand how Scott could ever hate this. 

He wishes he'd said yes to Peter all those years ago. 

~

The smell hits them like a brick wall. Both wolves jerk to a stop and whine. It's like two week old rotten meat and the worst acid mixed together. 

Stiles can't breathe, and he isn't even a thing right now. That's how bad it is. 

Chris and Allison appear first, both of them making unpleasant faces, but their duller senses are far more tolerant. Derek has his nose and mouth buried in his elbow as he approaches. 

Peter and Stiles regain control and Stiles actually struggles to breathe now that it's his lungs being assulted. There's nothing to do but power through. 

"What is it?" He chokes out, wanting to get as far away from it as possible. Allison smiles sympathetically at him, and holds her hand out for him to take. He does so, with the arm not pressed to his face, and lets her lead him a little further. 

Just beyond the next tree is some sort of den. It's empty now, but when Stiles looks a little closer, his wolf lending it's eyes to help, he see's patches of thick black goo on the den floors. 

"That's what the smell is coming from." Allison tells him. 

"Why the fuck does it look like what Grampa Argent threw up?" Stiles growls out, trying not to break Allison's hand that he's clutching.

"Best guess, that's exactly what it is." Chris says softly. 

"His wolf is rejecting him."


	8. Chapter 8

They're all sitting at some local dinner some time later. Chris and Allison have ordered food, but the wolves have no appetite after that horrific smell. 

"How does that even work, his wolf rejecting him?" Stiles asks, toying with Allison's straw wrapper. 

"Like a bite not taking, which is what happened with Gerard. But I've never seen it happen. It's supposed to be a myth." Peter says. "Unless.." He trails off, looking at Stiles. 

"Unless a magic tree just happened to be granting a dying wish?" 

"You did ask for slow and painful." 

"Wait, what? You asked the Nemeton to kill him?" Allison asks, looking wide eyed at him. 

"I was dying!" Stiles defends, crossing his arms over his chest. "And he was gonna kill everyone and move his pack in." 

"A Nemeton doesn't do something for free." Chris says softly. 

"I gave it some of my blood." 

"How much?" 

"Um, I'm not sure how much actually got on it. My strength gave out at the last minute and I could only touch it with my bloody fingertips." Stiles says, sounding unsure of himself. 

"Yet it still seems to be granting your wish." Chris says, looking down at his plate. "It might take more later. More than you're willing to give." 

~

"Any idea where Scott is?" 

Stiles and Allison are walking hand in hand behind the adults as they walk back to the Alpha's den. He helps her over roots and logs, taking comfort in the feeling of her hand in his. 

A small frown falls in her lips as she considers his question. 

"I haven't heard from him." She settles on. They haven't been together since the Oni thing went down, but as far as he'd known they were still close. 

"Peter said he's busy. I haven't seen him at all since turning. What is so important?" 

Stiles growls deep in his chest when she doesn't answer. His wolf is confused and irritated, unsure why it's so important but feeding from Stiles' anger and hurt anyway. 

He lets go of Allison's hand, not wanting to accidentally hurt her. She says his name, but her voice is faded, just background noise compared to his emotions. 

A small part of his brain says he's losing control and needs to get a grip. He isn't sure if that's the wolf or the human talking. He can't focus, can't grasp the words filtering through his mind or ears. 

His mind has gone dark, all he can feel is rage, echoing back and forth between him and his wolf. Someone steps toward him, and he thinks he slashes out at them. It's hard to tell, feeling so disoriented and blinded that his wolf is only thinking about protecting them. 

He must be in his beta shift, his wolf at his side like this, but he doesn't know when he shifted. He briefly wonders if his wolf is watching everything, or if it's just as blind as he is. 

A bright streak of blue flashes through his mind, like a lightning bolt, and he jerks back. A snarl tears through his vocal cords even as he tries to grab on to that light. He recognizes it as Peter's pack bond, but the light is gone before he can do much more than process that information. 

He gets another image, there and gone again before he really sees it, of Peter's wolf snarling at him, trying to command him down and back into control. Part of him wants too. 

Part of him doesn't. 

A dark, sickening, blood red fog starts to push into his mind. It's whispering things that he doesn't want to hear. He feels himself take a step back, his growling turning into soft whimpers. He feels his wolf turn toward the new threat, still trying to protect him in his vulnerable state. 

But there isn't anything to fight. 

As the fog gets thicker, Stiles becomes more aware that he's losing himself. It's not just his friends around him that he can't see or hear anymore. He can't quite remember who he is, where he is or why. 

He can't feel his wolf anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

"-ss of control was going t... " 

"Did the alpha do... "

"Never shou-....him here." 

"Must have....near by..." 

It's too hot. 

It's too hot and he can feel panic rising quickly. 

"Shhh, sweetheart." 

Fingers brush soothingly through his hair, his wolf pushing waves of calm to him. The panic ebbs away, and he tries to breath deep. 

Something's wrong. He just doesn't know what it is. His thoughts fade before he can figure it out. 

Everything comes to him slowly, like snow melting in the bright sunlight. 

No, wait. 

That's actual sunlight. 

Stiles groans and raises a hand to shade the light as he blinks open his eyes. The blankets over him are soft and fluffy, the bed comfortable, but unfamiliar. It's certainly not his own bed. 

He glances around the room, but doesn't recognize anything. He thinks he should be panicking, waking in a strangers room. But nothing happens. 

Except an amused huff from his wolf, who simply thinks "pack" at him. 

Peter? 

His wolf flicks an ear in dismissal. Names don't really mean anything, not like they do for Stiles. 

Now that his mind is cataloging and processing what he's seeing, this is definitely Peter's room. He's never been here, but it's pretty much everything he thought Peter would have. 

He slides out of the bed, curiosity burning through him. He wants to go through absolutely everything, see what all Peter has in here. 

A pointed snort from his wolf drew his attention. Flicking it's tail, it reminds him that they're hungry, and he should find something to eat. 

Yeah, food. 

Venturing out from the bedroom, Stiles found the rest of the condo. Because of course Peter owned a condo. 

There's noise in the kitchen, and a strong smell of absolutely mouthwatering food coming from it. Following the scent leads him to the doorway of the kitchen, he found Peter grating parmesan cheese on top of amazing looking spaghetti. 

Trust Peter to make anything, even simple pasta, gourmet. 

"Come sit." The older man said as he took two bowls to the bar. Stiles slid onto a barstool on the other side of the bar and grabbed for his food. 

He could feel Peter's eyes on him as he wolfed the food down. He didn't look up. 

He looked at his pack bond as he ate, finding it all shiny and blue like he left it. 

Brighter than before.

Next too it, three more dimly glowing pack bonds had formed at some point. Another electric blue like Peter's, and two a faded white color, almost silver. That must be his ties to Chris and Allison. They didn't glow very brightly, not like Derek's and Peter's. 

Okay, what happened? The last thing he remembered was being out in the woods looking for the Alpha. Stiles frowned down at his empty bowl, feeling his wolf shift uncomfortably. 

His memory is completely blank after that. 

"Four days." 

Stiles jerks and looks up. He'd forgotten he wasn't alone. 

Peter looks tired. There are dark spots under his eyes that Stiles hasn't seen on a werewolf before. His hair isn't as kept and shiny as before, he doesn't look as prim and polished as he should. He doesn't look like Peter. 

"Huh?" 

"You've been asleep for four days." 

"What happened?" Stiles asked hesitantly, unsure if he really wanted to know. Four days is a long time for a werewolf to go into recovery sleep. 

"What do you remember?" 

"We were in the woods looking for the Alpha. There was a horrible smell..." Stiles trailed off, trying to think. 

Peter waits for a moment, watching him. "We're not entirely sure what happened, but we think you lost control and the Alpha tried to take you at the same time." 

Stiles blinked at him as he tried to understand what Peter was saying. 

"Allison said you had asked about Scott, and got upset when she said she didn't know. I'm guessing that caused you to lose a bit of control. It happens, your new to this. Loss of control was going to happen eventually. But before you or any of us could get you back under control, the Alpha must have called for you." 

Stiles feels his blood run cold as he stares at the older wolf. What happened? Did he hurt someone? 

"I can show you." Peter says, lifting his clawed hand. "It won't hurt, but I get the feeling you won't believe me if I tell you nothing really happened."

Stiles is already nodding, sitting up straight and pulling the back of his shirt down to expose his neck. Peter settles one hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, and places four claws on his nape. 

"Deep breath." Peter whispers, waiting until Stiles is about to exhale before pushing his claws in deep. 

"Peter said he's busy. I haven't seen him at all since turning. What is so important?"

Peter turns at the sound of his name snarled out thickly, seeing Stiles in nearly full beta shift. His hands are curled into fists, claws digging into his palms and making blood drip onto the forest floor. 

"Allison, back up." Chris says softly, already reaching out for his daughter. She moves slowly, eyes trained on Stiles, though the young wolf doesn't move. 

"Stiles?" Peter called, taking a step forward once Allison was out of attacking range. 

The boy doesn't respond beyond a growl, his bright blue eyes darting back and forth. He doesn't seem to be seeing any of them. 

"What happened?" Derek quietly. 

"H-He asked about Scott." Allison said. 

"He hasn't slipped at all over control since getting bit. It was bound to happen." Peter says, taking another step toward Stiles. 

The younger wolf, now in full beta shift, shifts his weight toward him and growls loudly. Peter is well within range of those claws now but Stiles doesn't attack. 

"He's trying to fight it." Chris says. Peter is aware the Hunter has drawn his gun, but it's lowered to his hip and pointed at the ground. 

"Stiles, can you hear me?" Peter calls softly, reaching out toward Stiles. The young wolf moves fast, almost faster than Peter has time to react, slashing out at the wolf's arm. 

Peter jerks back, hissing as a sharp claw cuts deep into his palm. He feels his wolf step up beside him and knows he's shifted into his beta form. He reaches inward, tugging hard on the fragile pack bond and snarls at the same time. Perhaps he can force Stiles back into control, as much as the thought bothers him. 

He watches the young wolf recoil, stepping backwards, another snarl rips from the others chest. Peter growls again, pulling the bond once more. Stiles doesn't react again, and Peter forces himself to back off, retreating until Chris puts a hand on his shoulder. 

"Why isn't he attacking?" Allison whispers. She's standing with her bow in hand, two steps behind Derek. 

"He's fighting it." Chris answers. 

"What do we do?" 

"Nothing, " Derek grunts. "He has to get through this himself." 

"What we're seeing is his wolf trying to protect him while Stiles is out of it."

While they talked, Peter watched as Stiles' posture changed completely. His growls turned to whimpers. 

"Guys." Peter grunts, getting the other's attention. Peter closes his eyes and reaches for his pack bond, finding it thin and barely there. 

"Something's wrong." He hisses. 

He senses the movement milliseconds before it happens. It's just enough time to shove Chris hard, throwing him out of the way before small reddish-brown wolf barrels into him, fangs snapping inches from his throat. 

Peter throws himself back, giving his wolf control. 

The onslaught of fangs and claws doesn't even pause. He side steps and pounces backward, waiting for an opening. The pup is new at this and ungraceful. When the smaller one over compensates, he darts in. His fangs connect with the others shoulder as he shoves at him. Snarled erupt from them both. 

They roll, both trying to pin the other. He won't let this pup get the upper hand. He bites at the other's leg, forcing him to back up. He claws at the other's muzzle as the younger darts at him again. He twists his body so the others fangs clamp into the skin on his shoulder rather than his throat. 

He hears another's bark, glancing at the wolf stand guard over the humans. He snarls a reply.

Stay back. I don't need help. 

He curls his back legs under him, letting himself roll to the ground. The pup, feeling confident now, relaxes the bite just enough for him to twist out, wracking back claws over the soft of the pups underbelly. 

Both he and his human cringe back at the high pitch yelping. His ears flatten back as waves of concern filter through his mind. 

He steps toward the young one again, cautiously leaning over to sniff at him. 

The pup's jaws clamp tightly around his throat before he can move. He snarls and shakes, trying to dislodge him. He feels his human pulling at the weak bond to the pup again, desperate to make the younger let go. 

A snarl from the other is the only warning he gets before the pup is forcibly dragged off, a growl of pain escaping him as he sinks down. 

He hopes his kin is doing better getting the pup down. 

There's hands in his fur and he tries to growl, but he's tired. 

"Stay with him." 

"What are you going to do?" 

"Just stay with him."

The bigger set of hands leaves his fur, and it's just the girl left. She soothes her hand over the soft fur on his ribs, talking softly too him. 

Peter feels himself dragged back into control, feeling Allison's hand grab his as his other hand clutches at his throat. 

"Stil-" he growls out. 

"Don't talk." She shushes him, ripping part of his shirt. He moves his hand so she can make a bandage for him. 

The gunshot that rings out makes them both jump. The scent of blood drenches the area. 

Stiles gasps as Peter jerks his claws out, sliding from the chair. He feels Peter's arm wrap around his chest to keep him from falling, but he shoves it away, spinning around to face him. 

"You said nothing happened!" he yells. 

Peter offers a tired smirk and shrugs his shoulders. 

"I said nothing really happened. Look," He spins in a tight circle dramatically, "not a scratch." 

"I nearly ripped your throat out!" 

"Nearly." 

"Chris shot me!" He screams. 

Peter waves his hand in dismissal. "We gave you the antidote right away." 

Stiles stares at him in disbelief. Peter is trying to play this off like it was nothing, but he can see how much it's effected him. 

The man looks exhausted. Healing two major injuries in the span of a week and a half has taken a lot of energy from him. 

Stiles sighs, letting his guard drop. "The others?" 

"Derek is fine. You didn't hurt him. Chris is a little more shaken up than he'd like to admit. Allison is off trying to find Scott." 

"Are you going to tell me what's going on there?"

Peter gestures to the chair, and Stiles slides back into it. 

"Scott's been MIA since the Alpha attacked us in the preserve." Peter says, clearing their bowls. "No one has heard from him. We left message after message on his phone, telling him what happened. Your father has all but started a man hunt." 

"Is he..?" 

"His bond is still there, so he's not dead." 

"What would be keeping him away?" Stiles taps his fingertip on the counter, his nail clicking loudly. 

"We're trying to figure it out." Peter murmurs, laying his hand on top of Stiles' to stop the tapping. "In the meantime, we need to keep working on your control." 

"What about the Alpha?" 

"With how weak he is, my guess is that he had been close by and sensed your loss of control and used that to slip in. Just gotta keep that control in check." 

Stiles whines, sitting on his knees and panting hard. 

"Come on, Stiles. Keep going." 

"I can't, dammit. Give me a break." He growls. 

Peter stands over him, having barely broken a sweat. They're in the woods, running back and forth along the tree line. Peter grabs his arm and hauls him up, giving him a push. 

"Keep going." 

Stiles takes a few staggering steps before siding to his knees again. "We've been at this all day." He whines. 

His wolf's senses feel and track the movement aiming for his head like a slow-motion movie. He twists his body and raises his arm to block Peter's swing. 

Peter grins down at him, flashing his blue eyes. Stiles feels his wolf acknowledge Peter's and knows his eyes flash back. 

"Good. Even pushed to the limits of your stamina, your wolf still has energy to protect you." 

Stiles takes Peter's offered hand, and lets the older wolf pull him to his feet. 

"That's great. Can we go home now?" 

Peter chuckles and nods, leading him back toward the car Peter had brought them here in. Stiles clutches at his hand as he stumbles with exhaustion. Mentally, he begs his wolf for a little energy, and whines when all it does is laugh at him.


End file.
